


War

by n7chelle



Category: Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: F/M, Hopeful Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Mass Effect 3, Missing Scene, No Shepard without Vakarian, Sad Shepard (Mass Effect), The Reaper War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-24
Updated: 2018-07-24
Packaged: 2019-06-15 11:03:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 928
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15411492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/n7chelle/pseuds/n7chelle
Summary: The war takes its toll on everyone. For once, Shepard lets it show.





	War

Garrus hummed to himself quietly in the elevator, amusing himself with his own sub-vocals. He’d never really noticed them until he met Shepard; so turians had multi-tone vocal chords, it was nothing new to him. But Shepard was particularly fascinated by them—and Garrus was finding all sorts of ways to put that knowledge to good use. He tried not to think _too_ much about it—or about just how soft Shepard was, or how a few rumbling whispers against her throat could turn her pliant in his arms—as the elevator arrived at the her cabin. They might not make it to the Citadel in time for dinner otherwise.

That pleasant thought died when the cabin doors hissed open. Shepard sat on the couch, back to him and her knees drawn up onto the cushions. The only sounds were the muted sloshing of fish in her aquarium, the faint hum of the Normandy’s drive core under his feet…and the intermittent sniff that accompanied Shepard’s trembling shoulders.

“Shepard,” Garrus called softly, not wanting to startle her. She jolted anyway, going unnaturally still. Garrus moved down the steps quietly and knelt in front of her. With her hair still tousled and dripping from a shower, the wet strands hung in front of her face. Haunted, tear-filled eyes stared out as though through the bars of a prison. Shepard hadn’t applied any of that dark makeup around her eyes for once, or he was sure it would be a streaked mess on her cheeks by now.

“I know things have been tough lately…” Garrus started. Shepard cut him off with a loud—and frankly, disgusting—sniff.

In a needy gesture unlike the Shepard he knew, even in their lovemaking, she reached out and dragged him close by the cowl of his tunic. Garrus wrapped his arms around her shoulders automatically, remembering the beaten down woman he’d tried to cheer up just hours ago in the gun battery. Apparently it hadn’t lasted very long.

“I don’t need you to ask if I’m okay,” she said, speaking into his chest. Her voice was hoarse. “I’m fine.”

Garrus barely resisted snorting. He tilted Shepard’s chin up, met her eyes for a moment, and then tucked her into the hollow between his neck and cowl.

“Shepard, I may not be an expert on human behavior, but I’m pretty sure this counts as  _not fine_.” His mandibles twitched against the back of her head as he spoke.

“Alright, Vakarian, you caught me.” Shepard sniffed again, short and sudden. She was probably aiming for snarky, but it came out too brittle. More like a confession. She didn’t seem to have any bravado left in her after today. “It’s just…we were so close. I felt like I could really see the end of this war.”

“I know, Shepard,” Garrus rumbled, stroking her back softly. “You know my family got off of Palaven?” Shepard nodded mutely. “I should be happy, at least a little bit. They’re safe. Alive. But all I can think about are the millions of other families that are still trapped, losing there lives because there’s no one protecting them anymore. I—I know it’s not my fault, but I  _personally_  advised the Primarch on the strategic retreat. Feels like all those deaths are on my hands.”

“Helluva pep talk,” Shepard mumbled. Garrus huffed, a mirthless laugh.

“My point is, we just have to keep going—we have to see this thing through, even if it means walking through hell and back for this twisted galaxy. We’ll find a way.” Garrus squeezed Shepard gently, then pulled away to look down into her eyes. “And no matter how bad it gets, I’ll have your six, hitting all those long-range shots you miss.” A faint smile tugged her lips, but her brow was still tense and wrinkled that certain way. He was making progress, but she wasn’t ready to move on, not yet.

“It’s never the end,” she breathed, dropping her forehead to balance on the lip of his cowl. “It never just  _ends_. First Saren, then the Collectors—now the Reapers. Hell, I couldn’t even get some peace while I was de—" she faltered, took a shaky breath before continuing, "coming back. You know that Cerberus facility—the one where they put me back together?—it was falling apart when I woke up. Miranda had to resuscitate me early just to get me out in time. Ran into Jacob on the way, and you know what he did?  _Handed me a pistol._ Had to fight my way out. I was—I was _dead_ and the universe still had it out for me.”

“I…” he didn’t really have a response to that. Shepard had never brought up the details of the Lazarus Project, not even in vague, oblique references, saying as much with the words she used as with the ones she didn’t. And for all their newfound intimacy, Garrus couldn’t bring himself to ask.  _Maybe she doesn’t remember,_  he told himself.  _Maybe she doesn’t_ _ **want**_ _to remember._  He certainly didn’t want to think about her being dead any more than he already had.

“Sounds just like the Shepard I know,” he finally settled on. “Never the type to let anyone else fight her battles. But never alone.” Garrus leaned back, just enough to look at Shepard straight on, to put all the trust, strength, conviction—and now that it was out in the open between them, love—he possibly could into the words that followed.

“There’s  _always_  someone willing to fight beside her. Always.”


End file.
